Peace
by David001
Summary: Sequel to my story Comfort. You should read that one first or this one won't make sense. Mac's POV.


Title: Peace

Completed: February 16, 2005

Author: David

Rating: K

Spoilers: Sequel to my other story, Comfort.

I still can't quite believe that he's really here. Harmon Rabb, Junior is curled up in a ball, asleep on the end of my couch, his head in my lap, his arms secured tightly around my waist.

I am so contented I could scream, but that would wake him and break the spell. Instead, I run my fingers through the hair along his temple–it's so fine and soft; like corn-silk.

He lets out a rumbling sign at my touch, and his arms tighten as he snuggles his face deeper into my lap. I can't help the smile that plays across my face; he actually came to me. He needed comfort and he came to me for it.

That alone almost makes up for the fact that he wouldn't let me help him earlier. Well, this is Harmon Rabb I'm talking about. He's so good at giving of himself for others, but sometimes I wonder if he knows how to accept help when he needs it.

I trail my finger down the curve of his jaw, his short stubble is like sandpaper against my skin. His eyes crinkle at my touch, but he doesn't wake. This simple intimate contact sends waves of pleasure rippling through my body; I don't get to touch him enough. After all the things we've been through lately, I suppose I can understand why.

I've spent the better part of the last year trying to convince myself that I didn't love him anymore, and that he didn't love me, either. The thing is, even when Clay and I were at out closest, I still loved Harm. No matter what I thought or did, I couldn't remove him from that place in my heart where he has taken up residence.

God, I am so glad that I was never successful.

Clay was never the right man for me. Harm knew it, hell, I even told Clay he would never have what it took to make me happy, but I refused to admit to the truth until it was too late to do anything about it.

Well, I guess I should thank Clay for making that choice for me. And I should thank Harm for never giving up on me.

It's strange that Clay's death was exactly the thing that I needed to move on with my life; even if he wasn't really dead. Harm tried to remind me that Clay had faked his death before, but I just couldn't believe that he would do that to me. That he would lie to me, and have his assistant send me gifts so I would think he was safe; all while he was off playing James Bond somewhere. His job came first, and I was always second.

I tilt my head back and sign, hoping that the air that rattles from my lungs takes the hurt with it. It takes some, but not the deepest. Not the most painful hurt.

I feel Harm jerk and I look down. His right leg is hanging off the edge of the couch. Before I can move to try to lift it back up off the floor, his arms constrict tightly around my waist, jamming my hip hard into his shoulder.

I smile again, and then it hits me: With Clay I was always second to his job, but it wasn't that way with Harm. He gave up his job to come after me; gave up the only career he'd ever wanted because I was in danger and he thought he was the only person who could or would do anything about it.

And he was right.

I feel my whole body deflate. A lump forms in my throat. My eyes are burning with unshed tears.

No, damn it. I won't cry; I can't, not now. But I know it's a lost cause. My body starts to tremble, my breath hitches in my throat, and as fast as that the tears start falling.

The moment those first tears trace their path down my cheek I feel him stir. I look down at him, but he's nothing more than a watery blur. I can't help it anymore; can't hold it in. A pinched wail escapes my throat as the sobs take over.

I feel him straiten, but I can't see him.

A thought shoots through my brain: You're only alive, Sarah, because he loved you enough to sacrifice everything for you.

The floodgates are open now. I can't breathe; I can't see; I can barely even think, but another thought catches in the corner of my consciousness and won't let go: He loved you enough to give up everything he had, and you spurned him for it because he couldn't say a few meaningless words that you were convinced you had to hear.

"Mac, what's wrong?"

His voice cuts through the darkness like a ray of sunlight through dense fog, but when I feel his hand come to rest on my shoulder–filled with his strength, but tentative, as if he's almost afraid to touch me–I lose it.

I fall forward with a wail, burying my face in my hands. My body is wracked with choking sobs; I try to say his name, but only a guttural groan passes my lips.

And then he's there. I feel his presence envelope me like a warm blanket, banishing some of the chill that has taken over my heart. His hands are on my shoulders now, guiding my head into the inviting warmth of his lap.

When I feel the tips of his fingers trail along my brow I can't help but shudder. He strokes my face again as he speaks.

"Mac, please, tell me what's wrong."

I try to take a breath, but I can't; his gentle caress has driven all the air from my lungs. I have to tell him, but I can't say it.

"Mac?" There is a pleading tone to his voice. "Please, tell me what's bothering you. What's causing you so much pain?"

I have to answer him. Taking a shuddering breath, I blurt out one word.

"You," I say.

I feel him tense, the gentle hand caressing my face pauses in mid-stroke. I feel him take an deep breath, and I can hear the pain as he slowly lets it out.

Oh, God, I've hurt him again! If only I could speak, but the choking sobs won't let me.

What happens next doesn't just surprise me, it shocks me. His hand begins to stroke my face again, and if possible, it's even more gentle than before.

"I'm sorry that I cause you pain, Mac," he says. "That was never my intention."

His voice is so soft, almost a whisper, and it's laced with unbridled agony.

I sit bolt upright, breaking the gentle contact between us–I hate to do it, but I have to see him–and scrub a hand across my tear-stained face. What I see when my eyes finally clear drives a dagger strait through my heart.

He's so pale–almost white–and his bottom lip is trembling ever so slightly as he tries not to cry. Unfortunately, the tears streaming down his face tell me that he's already lost that battle.

This is the side of him that, until tonight, I would never have believed existed. I have seen him cry before, but only once, and not like this. He looks so lost; so confused; so alone; so... unloved.

The last is more than I can take, and, before my conscious mind can even turn the through over, I fall against his chest. My arms snake around his neck as my hand presses his temple to my cheek. His arms wrap around my waist in return, but I never even get the chance to speak.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he repeats over and over, as tremors pulse through his body.

The faucet of my tears cracks open agin, tracing new paths down my face into his hair.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, Mac," he says again as one violent sob shakes his body. "Please, forgive me?"

Oh, God! Not only does he think my pain comes from something he did, but he actually has doubts as to whether or not I will forgive him for it.

"No," I whisper, "I won't forgive you."

He takes a sharp breath, but before he can speak I lean back in his embrace, cupping his face in my hands.

"I won't forgive you because there is nothing to forgive you for."

A look of confusion passes across his face. "But, you said I was the cause of your pain. You said I hurt you."

I can't help the sad smile that blossoms on my face. That's my Flyboy, always taking responsibility for everything; even if it isn't his fault at all.

"You are the reason that I'm hurting, Harm, but not the cause," I say. When his eyes draw down in a frown and he tries to look away I pat his face with my hand until he looks at me. "I am."

That confused look is back again. "How can I be the reason, but not the cause? Mac, that doesn't make sense."

"No, it doesn't, but it's true."

He tries to shake his head, but my hands on each side of his face prevent it. "How?"

"Because you never abandoned me, and that hurts."

If anything, he looked even more confused now. "Why would that hurt you, Mac?"

Releasing his face I place my hands on his shoulders. My eyes search out his until our gazes lock. "Because," I say slowly, "I abandoned you."

I try not to, but a fresh sob passes my lips, a new shudder shakes my body. "After all I've done to you," I moan, "I'm surprised you don't hate me. And that's what hurts the most, Harm. I pushed you away, told you 'never', and abandoned you to your fate. You should hate me, but for some reason I cannot fathom, you don't. Why is that, Harm? Why?"

With that, I slip over the edge. I fall against his shoulder as waves of fresh tears and gut-wrenching sobs burst forth from my body.

The instant my head touches his shoulder, his arms flow around me. One hands cups the back of my head–his fingers tangle in my hair–while the other traces small, soothing circles across my back.

I can feel his breath in my ear as he leans close. His voice is only a step above a whisper. "I could never hate you, Mac. Ever."

"Why?' I sob.

"Because," his hands still and pull me closer. "I love you."

Ok. Come on now, Sarah. Breathe girl. Breathe or you're going to pass out. Come on!

I manage to take a halting breath. "What did you say?"

He pushes back and I try not to look at him; afraid of what I might see, but when our eyes cross and instantly lock, I know resistance is futile.

He places both his hands on my face. "I... love... you," he says. "Did you hear me that time?"

All I can do is swallow and nod ineffectively in his hands. My, God, he actually said it! I didn't think he even knew those words.

"Sarah?"

Hearing my given name pass his lips snaps off any other coherent thought.

"Yes?" It's only one word, but right now I doubt I could string enough of them together to actually form a complete sentence.

When he grins at me with that melt-all-the-bones-in-you-body way that he has, I have to remind myself to breathe again.

"I meant it, Sarah, and I always will."

With that his face stretches towards mine. Holy crap! Is he doing what I think he's doing?

When our lips meet in the most tender, love-filled kiss I have ever experienced, all the pain that has plagued me for the last year vanishes in an instant. All the torment and suffering we have heaped on each other for so long melts away into the ether as if it had never been.

He loves me. He actually said the words. I pull back quickly. "I love you, too." I manage in a rush.

That quirky grin of his flashes itself at me before he pulls me back in for an even deeper kiss.

I smile contentedly against his lips. When he showed up at my door tonight, so lost and confused, I was just glad that I could give his soul the comfort that it needed. Never in my wildest dreams did I believe that my soul would find what it needed, but it did. Through this man that I know hold in my arms, my soul has found peace.


End file.
